


Skull Mask

by RiKuEersa



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Crossover, Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions (Bungou Stray Dogs), Immortal Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Mafia Boss Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Mentioned Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27515209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiKuEersa/pseuds/RiKuEersa
Summary: Skull was done with everything. Specifically the Italian branch of the Mafia. He missed Japan and Yokohama. For all the European Mafia's vaulted genius, Skull found them too simple, too light for the underground he was used to. Flames were interesting, but not any more so than abilities. In fact, he found them constraining and failed to understand how they were supposed to predetermine a person's personality.They labeled him the weakest of the seven strongest flame users and an inverted flame active cloud. That was laughable. He didn't showcase his strengths where enemies could see them. He had his territory and his people. He had his Sky and his elements. They didn't happen to be the Acrobaleno. After all, Skull wasn't even his name. It was just one of his many aliases. An alias that had outlived its usefulness.
Relationships: Arcobaleno & Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Comments: 66
Kudos: 476
Collections: Identity Crisis





	1. Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short piece I wrote. It is in three parts, and here is part one. I hope you enjoy this weird concept that floated into my brain earlier last week. 
> 
> Also, a disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.

Skull hummed quietly to himself. His helmet and gloves had been discarded for the night. He was getting irritated with having to be stuck with the others for an extended period of time. When the curse had been broken, the former Acrobaleno had retreated to the mansion where they had all met, where the whole debacle started. Verde wanted them to live together for the next two months as they gradually aged back into their original age before the curse. Skull didn’t really care either way. After all, he was only playing a part. A part that had been much longer-lasting than his other selves, but he would be lying if he didn’t learn a lot.

He had lied, and lied, and lied, and lied. He lied to Checkerface. He had lied to Luce. He had lied to Aria and Yuni. He lied to the other Arcobaleno and the Vongola. It would all end, and the lying and deceiving. Today was the last day they had to be together. Skull was back at his body’s original age of 22. Skull had no fear of anyone entering his room. It was the one place the other Acrobaleno would not enter. No one entered another’s room. As such, he had stashed a to-go bag with everything he would need to vanish. No one would even be able to track him via flames.

A vicious smirk curled his lips, and his eyes gained a dark glint in them. He was done playing with the other. He had started this venture because he had been promised the perfect suicide, and it would have been. He would have died, and nothing would have worked to bring him back. He remembered a time before the curse-filled with warmth, softness, and something that made him feel almost human. He hadn’t been bored, and there had always been something to capture his attention. And then that damn Book had happened, and Skull had destroyed it. Used his ability to keep the Decay of Angels commands from coming to fruition. He had done it, save hundreds of lives, and all it cost him was the one thing he chased with abandon. Death. Skull found, no matter how many times he died. He didn’t stay dead.

The Book had latched onto him and fused with him on a fundamental level as they engaged in a tug of war. The Book trying to exert its power and Skull’s ability to nullify it at the same time. Round and round for what seemed like years. Then something broke, and the Book had surged around him and surrounded him, not touching. It seemed interested in him, sentient in a way it wasn’t before. Now, Skull could feel it’s power throbbing in the center of his chest. Settling where the gaping abyss of loneliness was. It left behind burning purple flames that had tried to hook into a soul that didn’t exist. Skull didn’t have a soul. He wasn’t human. His ability nullified the purple color as soon as it flared into existence, choking it. It left him feeling numb and cold in a way that he hadn’t felt since before Oda and Ango, before the Agency and his promise.

When the Book vanished, Skull had vanished with it. Days after everything settled down and three months later, Checkerface had shown up. With nothing to occupy his time but trying to die, he had accepted. It had led him to be dragged back into a world he thought he left. When he had met the other for the first time, he knew them instantly. Knew they were Mafia. Skull had plotted right there and crafted a mask to fool all of them and entertain himself. And they did not disappoint with their disgust and scorn. He even purposefully antagonized Reborn and Colonello like he did Chuuya and Kunikida. It wasn’t the same, nothing would be able to replace them, but it was familiar and exciting.

But now the curse was ended, the thing that trapped him for 21 years was gone, and he was 22 again with all his scars and marred flesh. Skull stretched his arms and got dressed again. He left his helmet and grabbed his to-go bag. Absentmindedly he pats the small octopus on the head as he left. The red little thing had been a nice companion, but the connection between them would snap the moment he ripped the purple flames from his being and let his ability consume them. The small piece of the Book he managed to salvage was pressed to his forearm and was one way he found he could access his flames without his ability trying to nullify them all the time.

Skull opened his window and left from the opening to the surrounding trees. Effortlessly he leaped from tree to tree until he reached the small clearing about two kilometers away. He hummed as he put the bag over his shoulders and kicked the motorcycle into action. The words Chibiko on the license plate glinted in the glow of the taillights. A few weeks into his forced stay in the manor, he had been feeling nostalgic and had secretly bought the black and maroon colored motorcycle with money he hadn’t touched since he left Mori and the Port Mafia.

The wind rushed through his hair as he sped away from the manor and into the Italian countryside. His path seemed to meander here and there, but Skull had a destination. He stopped every 200 kilometers to refuel, and about 600 kilometers north from the manor, Skull found himself coming upon a small inn and checked in for the day. He wouldn’t be staying, but it was good enough for what he needed to do next. Skull parked his motorcycle and took his bag into the small bathroom in the room he rented.

He silently stripped out of his jumpsuit and undid all the plaster and jewelry from his face. Carelessly he threw it all into the small waste bin and stepped into the shower. Skull let his muscles relax as he washed away the makeup and hair product he used. He hummed and let his cloud flames eat away at the purple dye in his hair to reveal dark, messy locks. Once he was finished, Skull dried off and rummaged through his bag to grasp rolls of fresh bandages. With practiced ease that spoke of years of repetition, Skull wrapped his limbs and torso. Only the upper part of his neck, face, feet, and hands were left free of bandages. He dumped the rest of what was in his bag out and shoved his jumpsuit, boots, and gloves into it.

It didn’t take him long to get dressed in the clothes he brought with him. Grabbing the dark burnt yellow tie, Skull stood in front of the mirror to messily knot the tie around his neck and pull down the collar. He let out a breathy chuckle, plucked out the purple contacts, and flushed them down the toilet. Staring back at him was a young messy-haired young man with blank mocha-colored eyes. Flipping off the light, Skull strolled back into the bedroom and slipped a pair of black dress shoes on. A gray vest and leather gun holster were tugged on and with the matching dark gray coat. He slipped two colts and several magazines into the holsters. Various documents, passports, and wallet were shoved into the coat pockets.

Checking his surroundings, Skull checked that he grabbed everything and ripped away from the fake skin on the back of his hand. The folded Page of the Book left his skin, letting his ability surge through him. Skull grunted in pain. He could feel _No Longer Human_ consume his flames, as they were nullified. It burned through his blood as a chilling numbness settled back into his chest and the feeling of hollow apathy stole over his mind. Everything seemed so distant now, as the warmth of what he came to associate with humanity fell away. Standing on shaking legs, he pulled on soft black leather gloves before taking the Page and shoved it into his pants pocket. He huffed and grabbed his bag, opened the door, and locked it behind him. With an easy grace that was absent earlier, Skull stopped by the front desk and returned the key.

Skull shouldered his bag again before starting his motorcycle again and peeling out down the road again. He discarded his bag about 500 kilometers before continuing northwest into France. The next day saw the lone figure sitting peacefully in a Parisian café playing idly with his new phone. He was waiting for Mori to show up. He wasn’t surprised when he found a phone slipped into his pocket with familiar names on the contact list. That man wouldn’t give him up easily. It had annoyed him greatly when the man would find ways to check up on him after he had vanished. But he couldn’t deny it had never left him bored, and the Port Mafia Boss had found ways to re-integrate Skull back into Port Mafia as the curse had left him unable to continue operations outside the underworld.

“Dazai?” A voice croaked weakly. And to Skull almost laughed as he shed the last of his former role.

Dazai turned around as a genuine smile, graced his lips. Something warm curled in his chest. He assumed that this was fondness. “That is a name I have not heard in years.” He drank in the redhead’s appearance greedily. “It’s been a while, Chuuya.”

The red-haired man nimbly jumped the barrier and made his way to where the dark-haired man sat. He shakily raised a gloved hand to the other’s face but not touching. As if he were afraid, the other would vanish if he touched.

“You bastard,” Chuuya growled out as he threw a punch. “Why didn’t you tell us the curse was broken? 21 years, you shitty Mackerel. You are always playing your games.”

“I am sorry, Chuuya,” Dazai murmured as moved out of the way. “I never meant to vanish on you for six months.”

Chuuya had fallen to his knees and buried his face into Dazai’s chest. The past 21 years had been hard as he and Dazai had worked to rebuild their relationship again. Despite Dazai being reduced to the size of a toddler, they had worked hard to find ways to get him acclimated to his new size and cloud flames. Mostly, Dazai was riding on Chuuya’s shoulder. The redhead found this hilarious as he was the taller of the two and gleefully rubbed in that fact. It hadn’t been the easiest for working out their new relationship. They had both grown while apart, and as they both learned more about flames, many things about Dazai had started to make sense. Chuuya had found a way to chain Dazai to him, and the other followed willingly. Eventually, they had settled into something that was just as strong if not stronger than before.

“Mori is retiring.” Chuuya murmured into Dazai’s shoulder as he found himself in the other man’s lap. “He’s calling for you to come back to Port Mafia as his successor.”

Dazai let out an exaggerated groan and whined, “Why me? Why not you or Akutagawa-kun?”

Chuuya snorted a look of affection on his face, “You know why you vagabond. Out of all of us, you are the only one with the patience and skills to keep the balance in Yokohama.”

Dazai sighed as he stared out at the streets around him. The years back in the Mafia had been interesting. He closed his eyes and thought. He didn’t want to return to Port Mafia. Memories of a future that didn’t happen flutter around his head. He had died, and died a good man, just like Oda wanted. And then he woke up and he was alive again. He had saved many, protected the orphans as best he could, and now, they were all grown up. He chuckled. It seemed like he fulfilled Oda’s wishes. But that was then. He died, Skull had died, and he was Dazai again.

“When do we leave, Chuuya?” Dazai asked a warmth filled his voice. It was time to stop running. He wouldn’t find what he wanted, and being a good man had brought him joy and infinite sorrow.

Chuuya eyed stared at the face in front of him. He looked the same, but the darkness he had learned to hit so well was on display once again. In a sense, it was like looking at a younger Mori. It was comforting despite knowing the kindness was fake, the understanding and compassion a mirror of a man long dead. Dazai was still as empty and twisted as in his youth, but Chuuya knew where he stood with Dazai now. And that changed everything.

“Well, I guess Port Mafia should get ready to welcome their Demon Prodigy back,” Dazai smirked.

Chuuya laughed as he stood brushed invisible dust from his blue suit, “what are you plotting this time?”

His heart stuttered in his chest. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself he would leave Dazai as the other left him. Four years or two decades, something always dragged him back to the other. He hated how Dazai could play him like a finely tuned instrument. He had tried to forget the other, but he always came running when the other called. But these past years had been different. Dazai had stayed by Chuuya’s side as he dragged him further into darkness. He hadn’t left him to sink into the ugliness of humanity alone. It was like he never left. Chuuya cursed the other as he hopelessly followed the chain that seemed to strangle him. Fuck everything and let it all burn. Chuuya was helpless to do anything but follow Dazai as he made the world dance to his whims as he played everyone for a fool. The redhead knew better than anyone the cold cruelty that hid behind wide smiles and acts of gentle compassion. It used to unsettle him and, at times, still scared him as the other man’s masks became more and more complex. But there was one thing he was certain of. He was Dazai’s. The dark possession in brown eyes settled something in Chuuya’s chest.

Dazai leaves some money on the table as a tip before following the redhead with a breathy laugh and a close eyed smile. “I have an organization to run, the authorities to usurp, and an underworld to take by storm. I can count on you, right, Chuuya?”

A vicious smile stretched across Chuuya’s face, “of course, Boss.”


	2. Broken Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! There is the second part of three parts. I might actually finish one of my stories...You are all wonderful motivation. I appreciate every single one of you. And now a disclaimer.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

When the Arcobaleno woke the next morning, something felt off. They all sat around the table doing their own morning routine. All of them had returned to their age before the curse. Reborn had a cup of coffee in front of him as he did gun maintenance. Verde was fiddling with some piece of tech, and Fon sat quietly with a cup of tea. Mammon was drinking some strawberry milk sleepily. Lal and Colonello were next to Reborn doing their own weapons maintenance. When the clock struck ten, and the former Cloud Acrobaleno had yet to come down, a trickle of worry had them on edge. Reborn paused after snapping the last of his guns together. They glanced around the kitchen, his frown more pronounced as he noticed Skull's ridiculous red octopus mug still sitting on the kitchen counter from last night.

Fon had set his cup aside and seemed to be in deep concentration as his gaze turned upward. The rest of the group seemed to sense the tension and stopped to stare at the two. Fon’s eyes flew open, and he let out a strangled scream. A look of horror and grief twisted his face. Reborn’s eye had widened, and his pupils were contracted to pinpricks.

“Skull’s gone,” Fon whispered. “I can’t feel his flames.”

Verde’s head snapped up, “that’s not possible! The only way the bond would vanish is if he died or if his flames were sealed!”

“Fon’s right. Skull’s bond is gone. Not snapped, gone. Like it was never there, to begin with,” Reborn grunted. His fedora was tiled to shadow his eyes. He holstered his guns and abruptly stood up.

“Where are you going, kora?” Colonello yelled as he followed the hitman up the stairs to their living quarters.

Reborn didn’t answer as he stopped in front of Skull’s door and kicked in the door. The first thing he noticed was Skull’s helmet sitting on the nightstand and Ookado. The Little octopus was trying to climb out of its tank towards its owners’ helmet with a desperation that was heart-wrenching. Broken little chirps and croons warbled mournfully for its beaked mouth. The others had followed, and Reborn and froze to the entrance of Skull’s room. Fon gently shouldered past and made his way to the little red octopus and moved to get it out of the tank. Once free, it leaped towards the helmet and burrowed into it—impossible wails and shrieks of desolation and anger echoes from the space.

“Oodako, can you tell us what happened?” Fon coaxed gently.

Broken black eyes stared at Fon, and a sad warbling trill sounded from the helmet as a tentacle pointed towards the open window. It then mimed a motorcycle noise.

“He left?” Fon asked. Hope fluttered in his chest.

The little octopus nodded before a sad chirp sounded, and two tentacles hooked together before one slipped away. It then pointed to itself and climbing motions before slipping back under the helmet and fell silent.

Fon turned to the rest and had a lost look on his face. “Skull’s bond with Oodako vanished as well. But it looks like Skull went out the window last night.”

“Something must have happened, Kora.” Colonello mused. “It was probably supposed to be temporary as he left his helmet and Oodako behind, kora.”

“Then, where is Skull?” Reborn hissed viciously. Something had gone wrong. His intuition screamed at him that the cloud was **g** oN **e _g_** _O_ n **E _G_** _oN_ **e–––**

“Mu,” Viper murmured as they stared at the paper in their hands. “I can’t get a lock on his flames either. There is a residual around Florence.”

Fon stands up as he cradles the helmet with the now quiet octopus. There is a broken look in his eyes as he stares around the cloud’s room. While he never had a close relationship with Skull, there were many fond memories. Lazy afternoons drinking, reading in the sitting room, and mornings watching the sunrise. It was weekends letting Skull clumsily follow his morning katas and forms with gently coaching. Amused laughter at Skull's antics and teasing. Fon could feel his storm flames ripple around him in agitation. Someone had taken their cloud. He shoved Skull’s helmet into someone’s arms and stormed out of the mansion to a secluded area, and screamed his anguish and rage to the sky. His flames lashed out and raged as he collapsed to his knees, heedless of the damage he did to the small clearing.

Reborn and the others watched as their storm flew into a rage from the large window of Skull’s room. Lal had her hands clenched and leaned into Colonello as she tried to process the fact their cloud was gone. He had hated the purple-haired youth when they first met. Not out of malice, but in an attempt to protect him from the dark world he was ill-suited for. She foolishly hoped their antagonistic ways would keep the naïve young man from losing himself in the depths of humanity. A fruitless hope with that bastard Checker face making sure there was no escape for any of them. And now that they were free of the curse, the other was free of the Mafia. Allowed to enjoy the rest of his life as a civilian. But that wouldn’t happen because the other was gone. Possibly dead. She needed to shoot something and then raid CEDEF of all its resources to find their wayward cloud.

Verde frowned as he glanced around the room and at the quiet Lal and Colonello. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Skull, quite the opposite. When the curse hit, he had pushed himself as if he was still in his adult body. Something he knew his child-self couldn’t cope with; old habits die hard. And Skull seemed to know this, had somehow carved himself a spot in Verde’s cold, dead heart. It was gradual with random check-ins on the phone, spontaneous visits to make sure he ate and slept. Skull had mother-hen him to death, accepted him in a way not even his own parents did. It was, dare he say it nice. Nice to know that someone out there knew his cruelty and blatant disregard for human life. Knew this and still accepted him and cared for him as a friend. A small sliver of his heart clenched, Skull smiled at him like he mattered and knew him in ways no one else did.

“I’m going to see if that tracker I put in his jumpsuit a few months ago is still functioning,” Verde announced before abruptly retreating to his lab. He would find the stubborn cloud would bring him home. Verde owed him that much.

Viper frowned as they stared after Fon. The mist wasn’t close to the cloud, but they didn’t have an antagonistic relationship either. In all the years they had known the other, their roster for the purple-haired man was short. They knew he was a stuntman for a circus. An orphan whose parents were of mixed heritage. Before that, there was nothing. It was as if Skull DeMort had only existed since a year before they turned 23. Viper knew Skull woke up early and joined Fon for tea and reading. Skull was an avid reader, and his favorite was an old worn red book.

He was an inverted cloud and had no known territory that the mist could find. The man was laid back, arrogant, playful, teasing, and loud. Skull also made the best strawberry milk they ever tasted, and their strawberry cake was mouthwatering. And without fail, Viper would find a glass of strawberry milk and cake sent to them every Christmas and May Day. A note would come with it asking for some request for information on an obscure location, person, or item. Viper actually enjoyed the request because of the oddity and how it usually led to some larger piece of information that became useful to them. And, Viper **missed** them. Missed their loud comments and brash attitude. Somewhere along the 21 years, they knew each other. Viper had come to care for the Cloud Acrobaleno. They clenched their fist and left to find Verde. They had a cloud to find.

The former Sun Acrobaleno tilted his fedora over his eyes as he watched Viper leave, and Colonello leads Lal out of the room. He shot the hitman a look and tilted his head. Reborn tugged his hat in acknowledgment. His sharp black eyes scanning the room. He swiftly made his way around Skulls room, picking it apart. He stopped at the faint outline of what looked like a bag on the floor of the wardrobe. The window had been left open, and the impression of Skull's boot was left on the frame where the other pushed off. The sun hopped onto the window and looked out the way the footprint was and leaped. His jump saw him landing through the trees where branches looked to be broken.

He followed the path of small broken branches and fallen leaves. He found himself impressed by the dexterity and skill the Cloud Acrobaleno displayed. It looked like the years in the Mafia, and Reborn’s attacks in the name of training had paid off. Reborn made a final leap and found himself in a small clearing well away from the mansion. The ground had deep indents where a motorcycle had peeled out of the woods. He followed the trail until he came to the road about a kilometer from where they started. The dirt tracked onto the pavement led north. Reborn smirked. It looked like he had some calls to make. But first, he had a storm to calm down.


	3. An Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three of three. Please enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters

Tsuna stared at the adult Reborn and the rest of the former Acrobaleno. “You want me to what?” He screeched.

Next to him, Xanxus let out a snort as he eyed his mist guardian, “Shitty Trash, the shitty cloud has left, and no one can find him. Fucking Reborn managed to track his movements to Paris before losing the trail. The only clue they have is the Shitty Trash has some connection to Port Mafia.”

Tsuna doesn’t get the caution and respect in Xanxus’ voice as he said Port Mafia. His expression must show his confusion because the red-eyed man scoffed. “Seriously?! Shitty Trash, how can you not have heard about Port Mafia?”

Tsuna stuttered as he looks to Reborn, utterly lost. His intuition was saying nothing. It’s Gokudera who saved him from further embarrassment, “Decimo, I would be worried if you had heard of them.” His eyes were dark and serious as he stares at the brown-haired youth. “The Port Mafia is a Famiglia that operates out of Yokohama, Japan. Their control of the city is absolute. Furthermore, they have a government permit that allows them to operate semi-legally inside the city. Not even Vongola has been able to do that. They are dangerous and operate in the darkest parts of the Mafia.”

“So, what can I do about it?” Tsuna asked. He truly doesn’t get why Reborn was coming to him for help.

Squalo groaned, his eyebrow twitched as he yelled, “VOI! How dense are you?! He wants you to accept those damn negotiations with the Boss of Port Mafia to enter Vongola territory to chase down their traitor.”

Brown eyes widen. That made a lot of sense, actually. He laughed shakily, “eh, okay? But I don’t know what I can do. I mean, if they need to pursue someone, they can. Right?” He doesn’t understand how this is his problem.

Colonello smacked his head against Lal’s shoulder and groaned, “Send a message to the Boss and say they can have access to Vongola territory to hunt their traitor in exchange for access to Yokohama to look for one of our own.”

“Oh,” Tsuna replied. There’s not much more he can do without feeling more stupid than normal. “Okay.”

Reborn cocked his gun and pointed it at Tsuna with a glint in his eye. “Dame-Tsuna, I’ll stay and make sure you write the letter to Port Mafia in a way befitting a Boss of Vongola.”

“HIEE?!” Tsuna shrilled. He was so going to die. He let out a whimper as he stared at the pen and paper Gokudera shoved in front of him. It’s for a good cause.

* * *

Dazai stared at the letter in front of him with ill-concealed mirth. It looked like the Vongola wanted to play. He knew the other Acrobaleno wouldn’t let their precious Skull go that easily, but to get poor little Tsunayoshi-kun involved. He penned his response with a flourish and handed it over to the messenger. He’d meet with the little Mafia and his guardians in three days. All he needs was Akutagwa-kun and Chuuya. Everything else would fall into place after.

The wait was surprisingly short, and before he knew it, he found himself sitting down at a small tea house in Yokohama’s China Town with Chuuya and Akutagawa flanking him on either side. His lone visible eye regarded Reborn, Tsuna, and his guardians with a cold look. He’s not here to make friends with the boy. He had a role to play and a traitor to hunt down. The negotiations were already off to a bad start. The little Sky was in hyper dying will mode and putting out sky flames to the point Chuuya looks like he wanted to jump across the table and strangle the boy. Akutagawa has stiffened to the point, Dazai thought he’s going to snap in half.

“Little Sky, you might want to pull back your flames before you start a war you can’t win.” His voice was dark. “If this is how you greet everyone, I can see why Xanxus went after you with such a vengeance.”

Orange eyes narrow, but the flames retreat a bit. “How do you know Xanxus?” There was a warning in those words.

A dark smile curls his lips as he gave the other a humorless smile. His ability was thrumming under his skin as he feels the invisible brush of Tsuna’s flames against him, trying to initiate a connection to get a read on him with his Hyper Intuition. It wouldn't work, as the ability was flame-based, and _No Longer Human_ nullified even flame abilities. Orange eyes widen and flickered briefly to brown as his eyes widen. He couldn't help it. He laughed. It’s an empty thing bordering on insanity. This child was delightful.

“I’m afraid little Vongola Decimo, your ability won’t work here. Now, about this little exchange. I want access to Vongola territory to hunt down a traitor to Port Mafia. What do you require to give it to me?” He doesn’t need to entertain this little negotiation. Both he and Reborn knew it. But, it’s the tradition that stays his hand from simply plucking the little rat from his hiding place.

“Skull, the former Cloud Acrobaleno.” The answer was hard and firm.

Good, the little bird was learning. “And what about him?”

“We want access to Yokohama to search for him.”

He saw Chuuya raise an eyebrow at that request. It was surprisingly fair, an eye for an eye, so to speak. He leaned back in his chair. “Why? He’s neither like Reborn nor is he tied to anyone in Vongola or Varia officially. The only one he is required to attend to is the Caracassa Family.”

“You are surprisingly, well informed.” Reborn cut in.

Dazai smiled brightly at the hitman. “Let me ask you a question then, Vongola Decimo Sawada Tsunayoshi. What do you hope to gain?”

“Skull is important to me because I consider him a friend. He’s missing, and I want to know he’s safe.”

He had already decided to allow the Vongola to search Yokohama, but he had some concessions. He held up a sealed black envelope with a silver seal. “Deal. This will give you limited access to Port Mafia territory for three days so long as you don’t use any flames.” He slides it across the table to the other. “Do be aware that should you interfere with any Port Mafia business, your privileges will be revoked.”

The other took the envelope and handed it to Reborn. Dazai kept his eyes on Tsuna as he flipped open his ringing phone to answer. A cruel glint entered his eyes as he asked, “Do we have permission to take out the traitor in Vongola Territory, little Sky?”

Tsuna nodded hesitantly.

Dazai clicked his tongue, “a verbal answer, Vongola.”

“Yes, I, as Vongola Decimo, give you permission to enter Vongola territory.”

“To do what?” He crooned

“To take care of your traitor.”

Dazai’s smile was chilling as he spoke into the phone, “take out the trash, will you, Gin-chan?” The only answer he gets is the sound of a gun going off.


	4. Game Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to continue this little head cannon of mine. Apologizes for the long delay. I am still working on ironing out the plot holes and inconsistencies in the extended plot. So, as of now, this is officially going to be longer than the original three chapters I had written. 
> 
> Please enjoy Chapter 4!

There was something more to this meeting, but he couldn't place what was wrong. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that told him to look closer. It was irritating and set his already frayed nerves on edge. Reborn could feel it in his bones. He was missing something. From the moment they walked into the meeting, it was going too smoothly, too flawlessly. The hitman tilted his fedora to shadow his eyes as he warily eyed Nakahara Chuuya and Akutagawa Ryunosuke with wary eyes. Both men held an air of danger that had him itching to grip his gun. But it was the man in the middle, Dazai Osamu, that sent his intuition screaming in his head a litany of **_D_** e **At** h **B _l_ o**O _d_ **–––S** _c_ r **E _a_ M**s **D** _e_ **sP** a ** _I_ r–––Fa** _m_ **I** L ** _i_** a **RI** k **Ow _Y_** _o_ **U–––B** a ** _N_ gB**a **nG _B_** a **N** G **b** _a_ **n** G **–––**

He forced himself to focus back on the conversation. Reborn's expression hardened as the Port Mafia Boss slid an embossed black envelop towards them. The silver seal glinted ominously in the harsh light of the tearoom. A sense of unease rose as his student picked up the envelope. This close, the hitman could see the elegant scrawl of **Vongola** on the front in hypnotic silver ink. They had what they came for, despite Reborn knowing Port Mafia didn't need permission to enter Vongola territory to take out anyone they deemed a threat. They were notorious for in-and-out hits and assassinations without being caught. You didn't rise to the status Port Mafia did without having the skill and ruthlessness to back it up. As such, he wasn't surprised in the least when he heard a gunshot go off from the other side of the phone.

He gripped his impulsive student's shoulder in an unforgiving grip. This was not how he wanted to introduce Tsuna to the Mafia's darker aspects, but they could not afford to mess up. The boy's flames output had increased again, and the redhead had a death grip on the back of his Boss's chair. The black-eyed man was openly glaring at the Vongola Decimo, hostility and rage burned in his eyes. Silently, he flicked his fingers and let one of his guns fall into his hand hidden by the table. He pursed his lips as he readied his flames. This could get ugly fast. When they got out of this, he and his Dame-student were going to have a long chat about picking fights and how to identify which ones you could win and which ones you gracefully bowed out from.

Dazai carelessly tapped the end call icon on his phone with a sigh. Lazy red-tinged eyes pinned the Vongola Decimo to his seat. "Well, shounen, what are you waiting for? An invitation?"

"Why?" Tsuna demanded in a stern voice. He felt like he was dealing with a less volatile version of Xanxus. He would deal with the man the same way he did Xanxus. "Why negotiate with us if you already knew who and where the man was?"

Reborn fought the urge to strangle his charge and drag the brat out of the meeting room at the same time. Port Mafia is feared among the Mafia for a reason. They were ruthless, brutal, and everything Xanxus wanted the Varia to be. The previous Boss was known for his cold, calculating nature and cruel mechanisms. And it looked like his successor was following in his footsteps. Reborn struggled to find differences between Mori and Dazai. Instead, only seeing the similarities and ghostly echoes within the man’s actions and movements before him. He had had the misfortune of meeting Mori while on a hit several decades ago. It had been a jarring and unpleasant experience that left him off-kilter and disturbed for days after. While Reborn was smart and prided himself on his intelligence, he knew when he was outclassed. And Mori had definitely outclassed him by far. It still galled him. Reborn was used to being the smartest in any room, and to find someone who was tens of steps ahead of him was a bitter pill to swallow, even years later.

Port Mafia under Mori flourished. They were the only known underworld organization that dared set-up so close to a government facility and regularly had contact and a truce among the Armed Detective Agency. Rumor had it Port Mafia even had a contact within the Government's Special Abilities Department. No one was insane enough to tangle with a Famiglia that could kill someone in broad daylight and not get thrown into jail or arrested by the authorities. At any other time, Reborn would have applauded his student for his ability to stand up for what he believed and demand answers like any self-respecting Mafia Don. Still, right now, he was nothing more than an insignificant child going up against a demon.

Dazai's smile was crooked as he spread his hands in supplication, "Oh little Sky. Didn't the World's Greatest Hitman tell you? This meeting is just a formality. If I wanted, I could have gotten what I wanted with you being none the wiser." He laughed high and mocking, "you just sent a formal negotiation message before I could give the word. And how could I resist formal negotiations between Port Mafia and the new generation of Vongola? Now that would be poor form."

The man's eyes glinted red as he watched the teen's expression harden at his answer. Dazai’s gaze flickered to Reborn, and he felt nothing for one of the men he had spent the better part of two decades analyzing and getting to know. Viper wasn't the only one who valued information. It was one of the few things he had gotten amusement from when he was around the other Acrobaleno. For all their vaulted intelligence and observational power, none saw through his masks. Even Lucé failed, too caught up in looking to the future to see the present. However, they were pale imitations for Chuuya, Akutagawa, Kunikida, Ranpo, Atsushi, Yosano, and the rest of the ADA and Port Mafia. 

"Understandable," Reborn cut in neutrally, hoping to diffuse the potentially dangerous situation. "We will take our leave and go about our search. However, why three days?"

"It took Gin-chan three days to locate, track, and execute our lost little lamb," Dazai pleasantly said as he took a long sip from the cup of green tea in front of him. The click of the ceramic teacup hitting the saucer was loud in the silence of the room. "An eye for an eye as you Westerners say, yes? I have always been a big believer in equivalent exchange."

Reborn tilted his fedora in acknowledgment before dragging his stubborn student out of the room. The sliding rice door closed behind them with a quiet thunk. The hitman didn't stop or relax until they were both far from Port Mafia territory and back in their hotel room with the rest of the Acrobaleno and rest of the Tenth Generation. His teeth ground together as he shoved the teen into the room, uncaring that his charge was no longer in Hyper Dying Will Mode and had face-planted onto the floor. 

"That was both reckless and stupid, Dame-Tsuna." Reborn snarled out. His dark eyes glinted dangerously in the light of the room. The worry and tension he had carried visible in his eyes. "Did you want to get killed?"

"HIEE?!" The teen screeched loudly. "What do you mean get killed? I couldn't let that man kill that person and get away with it!"

Gokudera perked up as he regarded Reborn's furious expression and Tsuna's panicked face. "Was it a hit?"

"No," Reborn spat out. "Port Mafia had a traitor in their midst that made a run for it to Italy. He was hiding out in Vongola territory. They already had a sniper ready to take the man out the moment Tsuna gave the go-ahead. Little Dame-Tsuna had to go and antagonize the Boss of Port Mafia despite the fact we already had the permit to search for Skull. The stipulations being we don't use flames while searching and keep out of Port Mafia issues. The time limit was three days."

Fon twitched at the information. "That can't be all. Otherwise, you wouldn't be this upset, Reborn."

"No need to wonder, Fon." Verde contemptuously scoffed as he fiddled with a device. "I had Reborn wear a camera so I could monitor everything and provide back-up should everything go FUBAR. You would think the Vongola Decimo would have taken all our warnings and Reborn's death grip on his shoulder as a warning, but no. The little idiot has a death wish. He questioned the Boss of Port Mafia on why he killed the man they were after."

Lal gripped the cup in her hand so hard it shattered while Colonello choked on the sip of coffee he had just taken. Viper twitched violently. A sharp inhale from Fon was the only reaction he gave as he delicately covered his mouth with the sleeve of his changshen. 

"Ah," the Storm Acrobaleno intoned blandly before turning to Tsuna. He decided to inform the confused and ignorant teens about the faux pas Tsuna had made. The only one who seemed to have an inkling of the land mine Tsuna had dodged by his sickly pallor was Gokudera. "Seeing as you don't understand. I'll explain it. Port Mafia makes the Varia look like kittens when it comes to brutality, viciousness, and cruelty. They deal in drugs and weapons smuggling, human trafficking, assassinations, and everything else you could think of doing. If you think the Mafia you know is dark, Port Mafia is darker. They are the monsters lingering in the dark that even the Vindice can't touch because they never break Omérta."

"But, what does that have to do with me confronting that man?" Tsuna demanded hotly. "I've done that with Byakuran and Xanxus."

"Baka!" Colonello yelled. "This was a formal negotiation. Once you got what you wanted, all other demands are off the table. Kora! Additionally, as the head of a separate Famiglia, you have no right to demand answers for how another Famigilia operates, especially if it was a hit or dealing with internal matters like traitors. Unless the Boss asks for your help or input, demanding another Mafia family answer to you, an outsider is an equivalent of declaring war, Kora."

"What?! So why didn't I know this?!" 

Gokudera groaned, "Boss, you did. Reborn taught us negotiation etiquette last week. Wait," the silver-haired teen said as he swerved his head to pin Tsuna with an unimpressed stare. "Did you forget everything or not pay attention?!"

The fluffy-haired teen nervously laughed, "well, I did, but, um…I forgot? I mean, we got what we wanted, right? I just didn't get why he had to be killed? Even Xanxus didn't kill his subordinates."

Reborn gripped his Leon-gun tightly as he leveled it at the fidgeting Vongola Decimo. "Dame-Tsuna, while everyone else goes out with the permit to look for Skull. We are going to have a little study session on proper Mafia negotiation etiquette again until you can recite it in your sleep."

Fon plucked the black envelop from where Reborn held it between two fingers as he exited the room. The red-clad man cheerfully hummed as he slipped passed the still pissed off former Sun Acrobaleno. "Well, I shall go out first with Viper to canvas the area. We'll be sure to keep flame use to a minimum, and if we do, it will be here or some other secure location. We'll convene tonight and go over what we have."

"Mu," Viper grumbled, "you owe me, Fon."

"I'll be sure to send you a strawberry cake and the 70% of the usual fee," Fon grinned. 

The Mist user paused and tilted their head. "Acceptable."

Tsuna could only watch with growing dread as the rest of his friends filed out of the room until only he and Reborn were left. He gulped as the bottom of his stomach dropped as he stared at his tutor's glowering face. He was _so_ dead. Tsuna sent a silent prayer to his ancestors as he faced his doom. Perhaps, the Demon Tutor from Hell would let him see his mother one last time before he died. On second thought, the aura of death and suffering Reborn exuded spelled a slow and agonizing death for him. Oh, why, oh why did he have to fall asleep during that etiquette lesson?

"Now, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn purred. "Time for that etiquette lesson." 

Tsuna screamed as the hitman fired several bullets at him. He was so dead.


End file.
